The Man From Avoca Avenue
by promise.me.forever
Summary: There is a rather strange man who lives on the end of Avoca Avenue, always lurking about his house. He hardly leaves his property, only when he has to retrieve his mail from the mailbox. I've never met him before...until now. [OneShot]


A/N: Yes, I am still here, and I am still going to be writing. So here's another oneshot to get me back in the writing mood. Hope you enjoy. XD

Disclaimer: I don't own High School Musical.

There is a rather strange man who lives on the end of Avoca Avenue, always lurking about his house. He hardly leaves his property; only when he has to retrieve his mail from the mailbox. I've watched him throughout the summer, having nothing better or more entertaining to do. He is not an old man; he looks as if he is in his late thirties. I wouldn't know for sure, I've really only seen him on his quick daily walks to the mailbox at the end of the driveway.

"Why don't you say something to him? Go and introduce yourself."

Something my mother always repeats to me when she catches me observing. I don't want to introduce myself; I don't want to say something to him. He seems bitter and alone, not wanting human company at all. So why should I even waste my time?

I went about my summer, playing baseball in the street like an average teenager. Basketball was more my sport, but my neighbors favored baseball. My favorite all time player was Troy Bolton, who played right after college. Sadly, a couple years later went missing. No one knows where he lives, or if he's even still alive. Sometimes I wonder…

But unfortunately one day, my neighbor Tony hit the ball, and it went crashing through the strange man's window. My neighbors and friends scattered the streets, before disappearing behind the doors of their respective houses. Sighing, I looked back at the window the ball had crashed through moments before. I began to walk towards the house, dreading what I thought was coming.

Nervously I made my way up towards the front stoop, my palms becoming sweaty and my breath getting caught in my throat. My hand lifted up to the door, knocking on it loudly. I waited for a couple seconds, before it opened to reveal the strange man, but what I found was that he wasn't that strange at all. He had unkempt brown hair that fell slightly into his piercing blue eyes. He was very tall, and was muscular. Taken slightly aback, I stumbled for words.

"I…well…um…my ball-" I started but the man put his hand up to signal me to stop.

"Don't worry about it. I'll pay for it. Come in, I'll get you the ball," he said, before moving away from the door.

I hesitated to come in, but nonetheless found my legs moving into the house. Shutting the door behind me, I began to walk further into the house. It was a neat and tidy house, but rather big for one man. By the staircase were pictures hung on the wall, all lined up evenly. I made my way closer to them to get a better look. The first one looked like it was taken ages ago; it had what looked like a seventeen year old version of the man, but it had another person present. Beside him with her arms around him was a girl, who had dark brown hair and brown eyes. They were both smiling at the camera, both looking exceedingly happy.

The next one looked like it was taken a little later in the man's life; he looked to be in his twenties. The girl was there again, but another young man had his arms around her waist and was kissing her head. The other man had black hair, and astonishing green eyes. The 'strange' man was standing next to them, a big, fake grin plastered on his face. It was clear he wasn't happy, but I moved away from the photo, and started to gaze at the next one.

This one looked like it was taken just recently; he looked about the same as he did now. It was at a church, and the man was in a tuxedo. He was sulking a little, but nonetheless had a fake smile on his face gazing at the girl. Once again the girl was there, but she was in a wedding dress and walking down the aisle with the same raven haired man in the last picture. I titled my head to look at the picture, thinking about why he would have these hung up. If he was so unhappy, why did he have them up as reminders? My thoughts were interrupted, however, by the man's voice.

"Her name was Gabriella," he spoke, making me turn around.

Furrowing my brow, I said, "What?"

He nudged his head towards the pictures as he leaned on the doorframe of the living room. "The girl. Her name was Gabriella," he repeated.

I nodded. "Oh. Who is she?" I asked. But the moment the words left my mouth, I regretted it. The man's expression grew sad and desolate, and his eyes dropped to the floor. Besides, who was I to ask? All I came here for was to apologize for breaking his window, but instead I'm asking personal questions? I made a mental note to smack myself later.

Nonetheless, the man answered me. "She's my best friend…" he trailed off.

It then became clear to me. He was her best friend, but he didn't want to be just friends. That's why he was so happy in the first picture, but in the last ones he was…not.

"I met her in tenth grade. I don't know whether it was when I first met her on vacation or when he showed up at my school when I fell in love with her. She was everything that I wanted, everything I _needed_. But I let her go…" he went on, sadness filling his voice.

I looked down at the floor, suddenly interested in the patterns of the floorboards. I took a deep breath before speaking. "You didn't tell her, did you?" I inquired, looking back up at the man.

The man blew a piece of hair out of his eyes. "No, I didn't. Just three words…and I couldn't say them. To this day I still regret it. But I can't-"

"And you don't want to tell her now, because you want her to be happy," I supplied, cutting off his sentence.

He nodded sadly, before dropping his gaze to the floor. Suddenly though, he lifted his head to face me. "Always tell others how you feel. Do it right away, because time is precious. Take it from someone who knows," he added, before handing me the old, rangy baseball.

I nodded deeply, taking in his words. I started to walk towards the door, before turning around quickly. "Hey…if you ever want to, you know, play with us sometime, you could," I offered.

For the first time, I saw him smile. "Nah…baseball was never really my sport. If you ever play basketball though, give me a buzz," he answered, walking up to where I was standing.

I smiled back. "Okay. But, one more thing, I never got your name," I said, now backing up out of the doorway.

Leaning on the door frame, he continued to smile. "You'll find out soon enough. Ever know what happened to that basketball player?"


End file.
